


a speck of light can reignite the sun

by imperfectandchaotic



Series: Set Down Your Glass [7]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, at least in this installment, but shh everything is klaroline and nothing hurts, meaning damon and caroline, references to past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectandchaotic/pseuds/imperfectandchaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stands feet apart and arms behind his back, and when he smiles at the sight of her something aches in her chest. She could spend centuries wondering—another time, another place, if he were less murderous and she less bound still by the human qualities of her life—what could they have been?</p>
            </blockquote>





	a speck of light can reignite the sun

**Author's Note:**

> set during season 4's Miss Mystic episode, whose name or number now escapes me.
> 
> just give me the hummingbird scene, you guys. just let me have this one.

"Easy love, that's enough. You're making a scene."

She's surprised, more than anything, that it's Klaus' voice—familiar and full of warning—that draws her out of her Damon-induced rage. And when Caroline can focus on the sight of her best friend stalking away, she's still a little surprised to find Klaus standing patiently at her elbow, as though it's exactly where he's supposed to be.

The tiny bird in her chest, who'd deserted the fragile perches around her heart so many weeks ago (he was dead and then not and then  _Tyler)_  circles again. It had reappeared, very suddenly, at the sight of him that afternoon, immaculate and bright  _(perfect)_  amidst her ever growing chaos.  _Neurotic control freak on crack_ , she thinks wryly. No one can deny it.

"Let's get you a drink. I'll tell you all about being the bad guy."

Caroline is tempted to refuse, to wallow in her frustration alone, but here again is Klaus' inexplicable warmth and kindness (the switch is so quick; it scares her still sometimes) and she's suddenly too tired to pretend that Tyler and Haley here together doesn't bother her, even more than it (supposedly) should. So she lets Klaus lead her to the bar to lift champagne and a pair of flutes, which he carries with such ease that Caroline wonders how many women he's swayed with a good suit and a charming smile.

She doesn't pay attention too much to where they're walking, as her brain isn't leading her mouth and she's ranting again. When Caroline stops to take a breath, they've distanced themselves from the crowd, halfway round the lake and closing in on her favourite parts of the Lockwood grounds. Caroline feels her shoulders relaxing and risks a glance at Klaus, (just what exactly is so  _peculiar?)_  who's still wearing that infuriatingly puzzling smirk. Does he know? she wonders briefly. Does he know that just stepping away from the pageant makes it easier to breathe?

"Just hurry up and find the cure."

He says, "I'm working on it," all low and reassuring and Caroline is, reassured (she thinks of blood-soaked sheets and soft sunlight), because when has Klaus been anything but single-minded, to the point of madness?

The little bird settles warm and soft against her heart, but it's only a tentative reprieve from the anxiety when he turns her question against her. For that brief moment Caroline considers what it would mean to give an honest answer, to be human again, but the truth is that she doesn't even know. But then Klaus pulls out that application—it's been a lifetime—and her warm symbol of safety spreads its wings for a different reason altogether.

Because he's mocking her, not unkindly, and she doesn't think, she just grabs for that stupid reminder of who she once was. Klaus is quick of course, the light in his eyes dancing, and the laughter that bursts from her chest is even more surprising than his firm reminder for decorum minutes ago. Because she hasn't laughed like this in months, it feels like, free of pain or a careful ruse or the aftermath of yet another horrific bloodbath and the incredible relief of making it out alive.

And Caroline feels a twinge of something —  _danger_  — in her gut. She is stunned (and just a little afraid) to remember how easily he breaks down her walls and makes her feel alright again.

—

She's reluctant to go back; not now, she thinks sort of despairingly, not now when she can't possibly hold their makeshift misfit dysfunctional family together, no matter how desperately she tries. And again, as if he can just tell, Klaus' lips twitch around a swallow of champagne.

"You know," he says, lowering the glass. "The last time I was here I was surrounded by drunk teenage humans. Not exactly the splendid fairytale setting I see now."

Caroline almost snorts bubbles. "You know there are groundskeepers right? I didn't do a thing on this side of the property. Your charm's falling a little flat." It has to be a measure of  _something_  that she can say this with intent sarcasm and a straight face, without a flicker of fear.

"Even so." Klaus stands and offers his arm. "I feel like you'd be the perfect tour guide."

Caroline hesitates just a beat— _remember_ —before accepting. She loops her own arm through his and feels very proper all of a sudden. And so they stroll, through a small grove of trees (she loves the way sunlight breaks into patterns over her skin and tries not to be too obvious about it, but Klaus' faint smile seems to grow all the same), down a winding path and over the minuscule wooden bridge, all the while pretending not to catch the other stealing glances at their gazes' edge, like the quick, dazzling reflection of sunlight over water.

It's so easy, too easy probably, to weave themselves into a warm, companionable quiet. That little bird  _(safe)_  is practically singing inside her chest; Caroline can almost feel perfect notes rising up between her ribs like bright balloons or the warm vapours of hot tea on a cold night.

It's not until Klaus breaks the silence with a stark reminder — "I never answered your question - if I'd ever thought about being human," — that she rallies her greatest efforts into logic and sense.  _Evil Hybrid. Vampire. Enemies._

There's distance between them now (everyone can  _see)_  but she can't help but mourn the loss of warmth.

"—and I thought, what a thing, you know, to have to work that hard every day. Just to stay alive — to be constantly on the verge of death and how satisfying each day must be that it survived."

And then he's just looking at her with a now all-too familiar expression and it's _too much_ ; it's too honest and too vulnerable and Caroline can just see them, all of the ages he's spent burying anything remotely weak—remotely  _human—_  how many centuries has this story unearthed? Klaus is, as always, impossible to read for more than a few moments at a time.

Truthfully it is, superficially, a ridiculous story. But there's a part of Caroline too large for her to admit that yearns for moments like these, for the beat of hummingbird hearts and the safety of a normal, human life and a love to go home to — a kind of love that would never fade, never waver, never fail. But even in her now everlasting life (isn't it the one thing she deserves for eternity?), she knows it doesn't exist—it can't, because how did Stefan and Elena  _fail?—_  and that is a bitter pill to swallow.

—

Caroline loses track of Klaus after April wins the pageant, and this new development with Jeremy drives him from her mind completely.  _Stefan what were you thinking?_  In spite of what they agree concerning Damon, Caroline is still taken aback when she learns who set Jeremy down this new and horrific path. Her first instinct is to find Elena—the latest empty flute is already back on the table—before she remembers. Caroline is probably the last person Elena wants to see. Regret curls hot and painful in the pit of her stomach.

So the former Miss Mystic Falls does what she does best, and soldiers on. She snaps at poor unsuspecting catering staff, folds the linens so they don't wrinkle, picks up the last floral centerpiece and runs a finger over velvet petals with a sigh. She's so intent on distracting herself that Caroline doesn't pause to think about where her Original date wandered off to—probably to strong arm some poor half-sired hybrid into some suicidal plan. So imagine her disbelief when, in mid stride back towards the dance floor, Caroline spies Klaus, lying on that bench from hours ago, eyes closed, face upturned towards the sun.

He looks so very  _human._

She's not sure when that will stop bewildering her.

"Finished early?" he asks as she approaches, lips curling and eyes still firmly shut. Caroline crosses her arms, feeling exposed and unsure of what exactly she's doing.

"You're still here."

It comes out sounding strangely accusatory, a half-hearted snap but mostly a tired question. Klaus opens one eye to look at her, and even this ridiculous gaze is too piercing; she shifts her weight and tries to assemble a stronger expression. He sits up then, still as absurdly graceful as ever.

"A gentleman doesn't abandon his company in the middle of an outing, you know." He's doing that thing with his eyebrows that makes her want to scoff and laugh at the same time, and yet somehow Caroline is touched at the gesture.

"So you're just going to lounge here while I do all the work, then?"

"You, Miss Forbes, are the most ruthless captain I have ever seen. I wouldn't dare incite your wrath."

She does laugh this time; she can't help it. "What, are you going to walk me home too?"

Klaus tilts his head and her smile falters. Caroline remembers things she hasn't had mind to think of—it's been so long, how can he dig them up with just a glance?

"If you'll allow me the honour."

She presses her lips together, another refusal already ready on her tongue, but if she's being honest with herself, the time she's spent with Klaus today has been a welcome reprieve from, well, everyone else. Caroline can feel guilt twisting in her stomach; on one hand, because of Tyler's burning glances, and on the other simply because she is at it yet again, relying too much on all the things Klaus may feel for her in order to deceive him. Because he's saved her so many times—doesn't he deserve better?

Does he?

Yet more questions for which she has no answer.

"I'll still be a while," she says, instead of trying to war with herself any longer. Klaus nods, feigning a very serious expression.

"Of course."

Caroline walks away and has to make a conscious effort not to look back.

—

The sun is casting long shadows by the time everything is said and done, and Caroline can feel human exhaustion pressing down into her bones. She could ignore it, probably—a vampire perk if there ever was one, but she doesn't mind the satisfied ache of a job well done. Mrs. Lockwood had showered her with praise, and Caroline tries not to see the motherly sympathy in her gaze when Tyler and Haley slip by and up the stairs. She takes a deep breath, because this is what they wanted. This is what has to be done.

Klaus is still waiting when she picks up her purse, though at the front of the house now; his silhouette is haloed in golden light at the end of the path and Caroline notes the morbid irony. He stand feet apart and arms behind his back, and when he smiles at the sight of her something aches in her chest. She could spend centuries wondering—another time, another place, if he were less murderous and she less bound still by the human qualities of her life—what could they have been?

"You look troubled."

"It's nothing," she says, too quickly, as they leave the Lockwoods behind them and set off in the direction of her home. Klaus' expression is dubious, to say the least. Caroline scolds herself for having such thoughts when he can still read her so easily. "Just tired."

He doesn't believe her. He doesn't even have to say it. But Klaus, in yet another strange display of gallantry, simply nods. Caroline almost jumps when he puts one hand on the small of her back to guide her around the corner—he's not even looking as he does it, doesn't even seem aware of the motion—are such manners engrained in him? Or it just her?

Is she just too aware of him?

The answer to that question is…well, probably.

She can feel Klaus looking at her for a long moment before he asks, "How long exactly have you been a vampire?"

Caroline is taken aback by the question, partly because he's just broken another companionable silence, and partly because she genuinely has to think about it. It feels like forever. "Just over a year?"

Klaus' utter incredulity seems so genuine that Caroline actually doesn't know how to react. "...what?"

"A  _year?"_  His expression is a cross between dumbfounded and that face one makes when they're trying not to laugh. "You really are something."

She crosses her arms, feeling petulant. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

The Original is looking at her as if he isn't quite sure that she's real; something ghosts its way up her spine and Caroline can do nothing but shiver against the feeling. Klaus' gaze becomes an unspoken question, but she's too afraid to read it properly and lets a few windswept leaves draw her eyes away. There is a touch of cool November in the evening air, not enough for a proper coat yet, not that Caroline needs one anymore. She misses that, strangely; having to bundle up for the cold is half the fun of the holidays. Will they have a white Christmas this year?

Before she can ask Klaus if he has a similar stance on Christmas than on birthdays, something warm is draped over her shoulders; calloused fingers brush her collar bone and all of the hairs on the back of Caroline's neck stand at frenzied attention. Her fingers grasp weakly at soft lapels of their own accord and for a long moment she looks at Klaus and can't say anything, because even as that little bird sings agains her heart, Caroline can't help but note the distinct lack of danger.

The warmth of Klaus' scent always conjures her, the bird—wings beating between her ribs, but there is also, usually, that palpable relief, because Caroline's survived yet another harrowing death and Klaus is just...there, his presence more comforting than she dares to admit, even to herself in the safety of her own mind. But there was no bloodshed tonight, no new wave of grief to wash even more of Caroline's heart away, no split second in which she mourned the person she hadn't yet become.

Just a man and a girl and a darkening street, a suit jacket that she could lose herself in, and the bitter realizations of her own naive heart.

"Thank you," she says. There's a little too much weight in it but they've silently elected to ignore it, as Klaus simply smiles faintly and looks at his feet. Soon they're halfway up her front walk and Caroline thinks foolishly that she's in the clear, that she won't have to think about this any longer, but he turns to her with intent in his eyes and she curses herself for jinxing her luck.

"What is it about Damon that bothers you so much?"

Despite her obvious reluctance, it's clear that Klaus is not leaving without an answer, so Caroline exhales noisily and shrinks further into his jacket, only half-aware of the motion. "He's dangerous."

The Original's lips quirk. "As are we all, love. There's a reason we're called predators."

Colour leaps high on her cheeks. "I know, I just…" She doesn't want to have to say it, doesn't want to let old scars show. "Stefan's always been...safe. He's the safe one, I mean besides the Ripper thing—it's just so hard for me to imagine even though I know it's true. And Damon he—I just can't accept what little good there may be in him, not after what he did to m—"

She can't say it. Shame burns in her throat. Klaus' curious expression hardens and Caroline wants nothing more than to flee. He steps closer and that instinct of flight riots in her gut, straining against the still persistent part of her mind that insists that she's safe still, surrounded by the smell of deep earth and spice—there is trust in him that Caroline cannot shake and another darker part of her brain knows it's going to get her killed one day.

"What did he do?"

Anger is darkening the lines of his face, casting harsh shadows beneath the glow of the porch light. She shakes her head, as if that would deter him, feeling panic rise up to choke her until she thinks she might be sick with it. A knot is twisting, faster than she can push it down  _(oh god don't you dare cry)_  but even as she loses her ability to speak, Caroline can see the gears turning in Klaus' head—comprehension is dawning, the horrific kind in which you can tell bad news is coming before it's even said.

_Better than not knowing why you're covered in teeth marks all the time, only that you have to cover them up, don't tell anyone, never tell anyone. Just want more._

"Caroline—"

She shakes her head again out of a strange, horrible desperation; Caroline takes a step back but Klaus just follows—why is he always  _following—_ reaching out, one hand curled around her arm in a grip so gentle it's almost her undoing. "Caroline."

"Please I—"

_"Caroline."_

She doesn't want to look at him but it happens anyway; a tear slips free but Klaus' free hand is already there, the callouses of his thumb worn and soft on her cheek. There is such tenderness in his eyes that Caroline thinks suddenly that she could live and die by this one expression—that's she's more afraid of him now than she's ever been. He's pulling her out with his gaze and Caroline can't hold on any longer.

"Tell me."

It's too much of a plea—it takes everything she has not to break down sobbing right then and there. Her breath doesn't quite come in all the way before words are just spilling out of her mouth. "It was  _before,_  I was stupid and vain and he—he used me...there were so many bruises and I didn't—I couldn't—"

There is murder in the set of his mouth. Caroline stumbles on before he can blur off to rip out someone's spine. Klaus' hand is still warm on her face (a tether she will take rather than risk drowning). "He tried to kill me before, but he saved me from you, and he's saved Elena so many times I know that, I mean…no one can be all bad, right?"

She asks before she remembers who it is she's talking to; Caroline blinks and tries to tell herself that the flicker of something new in the air is her imagination. "You asked me before if I wanted to go back, but I can't—I  _won't…"_  She swallows. "I will never be that weak again."

There it is again, that disbelief that she doesn't know what to do with—she thinks of cliff edges and cold school hallways. They're on the verge of something, Caroline knows, recognizing the moment before he blurred away to his supposed death so many weeks ago. Klaus's fingers curl, just a little, into her hair and she shivers again.

Wings spread in her chest and

—and then her phone goes off.

The text tone may as well have been a canon in the dark for all that she jumps. Caroline fishes it out and tries not to read the disappointment in Klaus' eyes.

It's Stefan.

_Can I crash with you for a while? I'll explain later._

"I should get inside," she says at last, suddenly painfully aware of her heart hammering, of a jerk in her stomach like someone had caught her in mid-fall. Klaus clears his throat and steps away from her. At the last moment she remembers his jacket, slipping it off her shoulders and handing it back, which Klaus accepts with a polite nod.

"Goodnight, Caroline. Thank you for the pleasure of your company."

"Goodnight," she replies, too faintly. The Original is halfway down her path, jacket hooked over his fingers and slung over his shoulder  _(human,_  her heart whispers) before she calls out, faster than her mind can tell her no. "Klaus."

He turns back, his surprise clear. Caroline rushes on before she can regret it. "I've never told anyone that. Elena—Elena and Stefan are the only people who knew, she found out and he—"  _he saved me. again_. "—well I just um,"  _Get it together._  "I had a nice time. Thank you."

Klaus smiles as though he's trying not to and her heart hurts. One final nod, and he vanishes into the dark.

Caroline stands on the porch for a full minute before she picks up her keys and steps into her home, filing the day away in a small box full of cherished things for her heart to hold onto, for the next time everyone's hands are stained red. It takes her another minute to pick up the phone to call Stefan, closing the lid on the box in her head as hard as she can.

 


End file.
